There was something soft about the way she moved.
It was quiet and slow.
She was thinking of something,
deep in her own mind.
She wanted to be left alone to her thoughts.
She didn't want to talk tonight,
her thoughts were too heavy for her voice.
They would break her if
she tried to utter them
and she wasn't quite ready to break,
even though she knew that later in the night
when everything was dead,
her thoughts would become too loud
and she'd break out of fear and pain.
She would pour herself into the night
and it would all be gone by morning.
She smiled to herself, and thought
this is why she loved the night.